


Dare You to Move

by karrenia_rune



Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, F/M, Legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:33:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Power and ambition often go hand in hand, but not always in that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dare You to Move

Disclaimner: Dragonlance Legend Series is the original creation of Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, and TSR Gaming Inc, and Ballantine Books, as are the characters whom appear here or are mentioned. They do not belong to me and are only ‘borrowed’ for the purposes of the story. The title was inspired by the Switchfoot song by the same name. It was written and posted from the Small Fandom Fest Round 10.

“Dare You to Move” by karrenia

Going into the Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth, perhaps the last bastion of magic on Krynn, had been difficult at best, nigh impossible at worst. The fact that she had done it only through sheer force of will and the goading of her spectral companion, Lord Soth, was a memory that ached down into her very bones.

She had never been they type to worry over-much over the past, and while Lord Soth might have had his opinion on the matter she refused to give the spectral former Knight of Solmannia the satisfaction. No doubt he would insist on having it out later, but for now he could wait.

He had had more than several centuries experience of waiting, what was a few hours more?

In the flickering light cast by a burning hearth fire in Dalamar’s surprisingly luxuriously study Kitara found her irritation at the ordeal she has just been through slowly seeping away, the warmth from the fire, the mingled aromas of spices and leather, and the good wine.

She came here merely to seek an alliance, to study the lay of the land, just as any good general would do before embarking on a campaign. She also figured that the apprentice would be more pliant than the master despite that fact that said master is her half-brother, Raistlin Majere.

She had never known quite what to expect from a dark-elf let alone one who had willingly donned the black robes after having been cast out by his elven brethren, the Silvanesti. She had been pleasantly surprised at his urbane charm, his intelligence, and no stranger herself to the opposite sex, his charisma and the strength belied by his slender build.

Another added spice to their perhaps growing attraction for one another was that in any potential alliance that bother or either would be only too willing to sacrifice the other if they opportunity presented itself.

Even as Dalamar offered his guest another glass of the wine, he thought that he could not recall any other woman who could that intoxicating mix of sensuous charm, in equal parts with an air of dangerous violence all at the same time. She appeared to be so much at ease in what must be to her strange surroundings. She still wore the remnants of her midnight-blue dragon scale armor; the uniform of one high-up in Her Majesty’s Dragon Armies, admirable and surprising for a human, not to mention a young woman.

But then that just might be his own elven bias showing so he easily shoved that consideration aside and into a back corner of his mind. She accepted the filled wine glass from him and offered him one of her trade-mark crooked smiles, one that he has no doubt has beguiled and bewildered many a man. The fact does not bother him as much as he knows that it should.

He considered her proposal with the care it deserves and finds much that he likes about it: bold and intricate at the same time.

Although, by nature and upbringing a cautious man, not one to jump blindly into anything no matter it might have to recommend it; Dalamar also knew that one must always weight the potential risk offset with the potential rewards.

He shook his head and took a few more sips of his wine to give himself time to think. Apparently, for the moment the risks could be anticipated and thus could work to his advantage.  
Another thought came swiftly on the heels of the first one; to the effect that power and ambition often went hand in hand, although not always in that order. He leaned back in his chair and said. “High Lord…”

She interrupted him and said: “You don’t have to call me but that title, Dalamar, not here, you may call my name.”

“Very well, then, Kitiara.” Dalmar picks up smoothly from where he had left off. “I have had time to consider your proposal with utmost care, and I have found that there is much to recommend it.”

“Then we have an alliance?"

“Yes. I propose a toast, to our future!” They both leaned forward in their chairs and rattled their glasses together producing a chiming pealing in the air. “I do believe, Dalamar that this is the beginning of a beautiful alliance!” Kitiara said in a voice that almost but not quite the chiming tones of their glasses from a moment ago.

“Don’t you mean friendship?” Dalamar asked, by way of making conversation.

“Despite what you may or may not think of me, or what my reputation may have it, I do like to play it close to the vest. So, if you don’t mind, Dalamar,” Kitara replied with another of her crooked smiles, I’ll withhold my opinion on that for now.”

“I must admit that I am bit disappointed,” said Dalamar thoughtfully, “but under the circumstances a perfectly reasonable response.”

“In any future meetings, then I strongly suggest that you give reasons, many reasons to revise my initial opinion.”

“I shall endeavor to do so,” Dalamar said, and much to his surprise, fond that he meant every word. In the back of his mind he wondered what it was about this particular woman; and in this particular time that she could have such an effect over him. He refused to speculate further that in that way, if no other Kitara share some similarities to her half-brother.

Just at that moment his meandering thoughts were interrupted when she licked her lips, no doubt smelling of wine and sweat, and turned his focus back toward her.

“It’s getting late; I really should be getting back to my command." She stood up, a bit woozy, thinking as she did so that maybe she had drunk a little too much of the red wine than perhaps she should have, but it had had such a rich bouquet and had left a lingering taste on her tongue. “See me out, would you?”

Dalamar stood up as well, and went over to where she stood to offer her his arm. “With pleasure,” he replied.


End file.
